


End of the Day

by verdantspace



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdantspace/pseuds/verdantspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You don’t need a girlfriend to get you through uni, Yagami</i>, Kengo-senpai had said,<i>just someone to provide a steady stream of food and sex, and you’re good to go</i>.</p><p>Looking at Yamato cooking beef stew in their kitchen with his short shorts and threadbare tank, – does the blond aim for kitchen sex? ‘cause Taichi can totally follow – Taichi can’t help but to agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> A piece of Taichi/Yamato I've written based on One Direction's song. The track is in their latest album, Made In The A.M., titled End of the Day, and I recommend to listen to it while you're reading this. This fic is set in an alternate universe where Taichi and Yamato are college students and (unfortunately) are not The Chosen Children, so there are no Digimons in this. I do love the Digimons, though, and I hope I'll get the inspiration and energy to write them in my upcoming piece.
> 
> (Edit: 16/03/15)
> 
> I deleted my old tumblr blog because of reasons and made a new one. Come say hi and cry with me about Taiyama [@verdantspace](http://verdantspace.tumblr.com)

“Yea, senpai, I understand,” Taichi grumbles to the phone, perched precariously between his shoulder and cheek. His supervising senior keeps going in a steady, monotonous speech – with accents and dictions in all the right places, typical of a politician in the making – and moments later Taichi succumbs to monosyllabic answers. She wouldn’t mind, anyway, she just wants someone to listen to her lecture.

Whatever she’s saying enters his right ear and exits through his left without registering in his brain – poor, _poor_ brain, which needs well deserved rest, Taichi moans inwardly. He wants to feel bad for being ignorant, really, but he just can’t bring himself to care because he’s fucking drained, goddamnit _please_ let him rest.

It’s prove of how much the finals week has taken a toll on him when he’s on the verge of tears only because she’s finally saying _that’s all, Yagami, don’t forget the journal review due next month_. He doesn’t even care that she has just shoved another assignment at him, just happy to be free for the weekend, at least, because he plans to leave his phone dead until Monday. Nearly shouting an enthusiastic affirmation, Taichi doesn’t wait for a response before violently pressing the red button.

He shrieks in apparent happiness and collapses on the sofa, giggling and kicking and acting like he’s high on something. His little tantrum has woken Yamato, evidently, because he hears a thud followed by very creative cursing from the direction of the bedroom.

Soon enough the blond emerges, hair rumpled and eyes puffy, Taichi’s shirt hanging off one shoulder and boxers inside out. He looks so adorable Taichi wants to continue squealing.

“Yama!” he exclaims, throwing his hands to the air in festivity, “I’m finally frrrrrrreeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!”

Yamato looks like he couldn’t care any less even if Taichi were to be sent off to Hogwarts to be fed to the Basilisk, disregards his friend very thoroughly and staggers towards the kitchen. Taichi looks at his retreating figure with a smile on his lips, because Yamato may be a moody little shit in the mornings, but he’s also a creature of habit, and it’ll take approximately five seconds before–

“Have you had breakfast yet?” comes the hoarse voice from the kitchen, quickly followed by a click of jaw abruptly closing, like Yamato has just remembered that he’s supposed to be pissed off at Taichi for waking him up, not offering him bloody _breakfast_. Taichi gives himself a mental pat on the back and bounders to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Yamato before the blond can change his mind.

“French toast, please,” he whispers to the nape of Yamato’s neck, smelling fresh and pleasant because Yamato never fails to shower before bed, “and maybe a little bit of French maid on the side...?” he asks hopefully, hands starting to wander, and Yamato’s skin is so smooth and supple Taichi _has_ to run his fingers all over him.

He hears Yamato’s breath quicken a little, but the blond is fast to slap his hands away. “Get away, you monkey,” he hisses, “how can you be this energetic so early in the morning, oh my _God_.”

Taichi wants to point out that it’s already ten o’clock but such remark would endanger his French toast, so he keeps silent.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good.”

He settles for simply hugging his friend, smothering his face on the space between Yamato’s shoulder blades. The blond only lets out a long-suffering sigh and begins working. It makes a comical picture, to be honest, Yamato tinkering away in the kitchen with practiced hands while Taichi basically hangs on his back like a baby koala, but nothing recharges Taichi like the scent of Yamato’s body, his comforting presence the most potent remedy.

Not for long, the smell of French toast fills the space and Taichi’s stomach reacts, letting out a rumble that also reverberates through Yamato’s body. It’s hilarious, and Yamato laughs out loud, patting Taichi’s hair and smoothing out some stubborn knots, all the while preparing drinks for the two of them – cappuccino for Yamato and milk tea for Taichi.

At mornings like these, Taichi wants to look into Yamato’s eyes and say _I can’t live without you_. But the blond would blush furiously and give him the silent treatment for a week, so, yeah. Not a good plan.

 

***

 

They’re not dating, despite popular opinion.

Yamato and Taichi are best friends, partners, brothers-in-arms, ThorandLoki, or whatever it is you call two boys with abnormally strong attachment to each other. They have been ever since elementary school, bouts of endless fighting and making up leading to the realization that they in fact like each other enough to throw punches around with no need for apologies.

Junior high school was when they threw pride aside and declared that they were best friends.

High school was when Yamato beat up some guys in the football team who were bullying Taichi for being the ace striker – with his bass guitar. High school was also when Taichi sent a perverted salaryman to the hospital – bashed in face and a broken rib. In his defense, that fucker was making use of the early morning rush to inappropriately touch Yamato on the train. Taichi’s the ace striker for his superb vision and great reflexes, and he’s a man of justice, so. Thrashing his face seemed like a suitable solution.

His junior, Daisuke, had looked at him with something akin to hero worship while Sora had suggested the shrink because Taichi _seriously needs help_.

Yamato had rolled his eyes and punched his shoulder, but he made Taichi his special kare for one week straight after that, so Taichi considered it a win.

At the end of high school year, Taichi had decided that he wanted to study political science – international relations to be exact – while Yamato was applying to get into quantum physics. They’re on different sides of the spectrum, social studies and applied science, and few universities offer both programs. It had been quite an emotional journey, cram schools and exams, and they did apply to the same school, but there was also the matter of the competition.

The night before the announcement found them huddled inside Yamato’s apartment with cans of beer and bottles of cheap wine in various degrees of consumption – his dad wasn’t home anyway, so what the fuck. High level of alcohol combined with bad judgement and the threat of separation dangling in front of them led to rounds of sex that took place in the living room, against the wall, Yamato’s bedroom, then, astonishingly, the front entrance.

On the couch, it had been reckless, their cocks rubbing against each other in no semblance of a rhythm, trousers still around their knees. The one time against the wall, it had been fast; Taichi figured out that Yamato loved being fingered while he was on his knees in front of Yamato, sucking him off. He remembered how turned on he was when what brought his friend off in the end wasn’t just the suction of his mouth, but also his probing fingers, two digits inside of Yamato rubbing against something that made the blond came screaming.

It was their first time – in Taichi’s case, first time with a guy. Yamato admitted that he was a virgin sometime around his third orgasm, on his back with Taichi buried deep inside of him, eyes glazed over. He was scared shitless, Taichi had noted, which was evident from his trembling body, usually so strong and unyielding in Taichi’s hold. In a desperate attempt to fix whatever it was he thought was broken, Taichi sputtered out an apology and offered to pull out, but Yamato shook his head. _I’m kind of glad it’s you_ , he had said with a teary smile, and Taichi almost broke down.

He continued to thrust into him, trying to keep his rhythm as soft as possible, with the blond’s breathless moans urging him on. In the buildup of his climax, he only realized that he was also crying, mentally slapping himself for being a sentimental idiot and tightened his hold on Yamato. After they finally came – only seconds apart – Yamato silently wiped away Taichi’s tears with rough thumbs; Taichi kissed his away. Yamato’s cheeks tasted salty and bittersweet, and Taichi recalled thinking like a petulant child that he didn’t want to part with him, ever.

Their fears were proven unneeded when the mail came, attached to them congratulatory letters that announced their admittance to the same university. It’s on a busy part of the town, the pamphlet drawing the university ground as wide and majestic; _theirs_ to explore. Taichi and Yamato had burst out in hysteric laughter, cursing their stupidity and promptly agreeing to live together by renting a place close to their – _their!_ – university.

Both were suffering from hangover, but also so high on happiness that Yamato decided that it was a great idea to blow Taichi right there – on the front entrance, when his dad could get home any minute. The possibility of getting caught made Yamato's mouth desperate, working with vigor on Taichi's dick, his tongue a touch of velvet and his sharp teeth grazed the head every now and again. It was his first time with a cock in his mouth, but his enthusiasm more than made up for his lack of skill. Christ, he did it like he was fucking _hungry_ , trying to swallow Taichi down as deep as he could. The way he gagged afterwards shouldn't be hot, but it was what sent Taichi careening towards the edge, barely stuttering a warning before shooting inside Yamato's hot, eager mouth. He swallowed most of it, accidentally, and the sight of his wet lips and chin almost made Taichi come in succession.

They didn’t really talk about the sex, but it had been _fantastic_ , so naturally it became part of their arrangement. It's been two years since then, and nothing has changed.

He doesn’t like the term ‘sex friends’, because it’s impersonal and fucking _rude_ , so he gives dirty looks at anyone who dares to label them as such. Besides, sex friends usually have an expiration date, right? It’s fucking without feelings, so it’s bound to get boring at one point. Sex with Yamato never gets boring, he justifies. If anything, it gets better every time, so in conclusion: they’re not sex friends.

 

***

 

This brings him to the present, enjoying a research-free weekend by lounging on the couch, limbs loose and sated courtesy of Yamato’s surprise blowjob. Taichi wanted to return the favor, but Yamato had declined, saying that he needed to check on his beef stew. Trust Yamato to choose cooking over blowjob, Taichi shakes his head fondly.

Taichi remembers something his senior said when he was visiting from university. The team all but cancelled their practice to listen to his tales from uni, and the most popular questions circulated around the topic of girlfriends. Taichi had a girlfriend, at that time, so he wasn’t really listening until something caught his interest. It seemed Kengo-senpai observed that he wasn’t paying attention, so he spoke right at him.

 _You don’t need a girlfriend to get you through uni, Yagami,_ Kengo-senpai had said, _just someone to provide a steady stream of food and sex, and you’re good to go._ Looking at Yamato cooking beef stew in their kitchen with his short shorts and threadbare tank, – does the blond aim for kitchen sex? ‘cause Taichi can totally follow – Taichi can’t help but to agree.

He means that in the most affectionate way possible, because he _knows_ that their arrangement brings mutual satisfaction – they get to get off regularly like healthy young men, and Yamato can channel his secondary hobby while providing Taichi delicious food. Yamato had said that he loves cooking for other people, arranging dishes and traditional dinners at the table because it reminds him of his family before his parents’ separation. Since then, Taichi had sworn to eat anything Yamato brings to the table.

University life is rough and challenging, but with Yamato next to him it kind of feels like a walk in the park. He’d trip and fall every other time, but that pale, calloused hand would always be there to pick him back up.

Taichi smiles in contentment and closes his eyes.

 

***

 

He wakes to Yamato’s fingers in his hair, habitually threading through persistent knots, and his low voice calling for _Taichi, dinner_. He was having a pleasant dream before this, but the sight he wakes up to is lovelier; Yamato’s face, neutral and calm, blond hair pinned away from his forehead and blue eyes darker in the dim light. He kisses those pink lips and holds him there for a moment, relishing in Yamato’s pleased little sigh.

The kiss is chaste, no tongues involved, and when they break apart he says, “Thanks, gorgeous,” with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Yamato laughs and says _little shit_ , but the insult sounds loving that Taichi only grins wider.

Dinner is a quiet affair, Taichi too busy shoving Yamato’s excellent stew inside of his mouth while Yamato watches in astonishment, occasionally eating his own portion. At one point, Taichi notices that Yamato purposefully fixes larger servings for him and refuses to eat until the blond eats more. Dealing with a huffy Taichi is a handful, so Yamato yields and by the end, they’re so stuffed with food that dishwashing is unanimously postponed.

Between trying to breathe and keeping the food down, Yamato exclaims a quiet _ah!_ that gets Taichi’s attention.

“What?” he calls.

“I got tickets,” Yamato begins, “for that newly opened aquarium.”

“The one near campus?”

The blond nods.

“Sora?”

Another nod.

“What’s with her giving you tickets?” Taichi wonders, “always in pairs, too. Is she trying to make you ask her out?”

Yamato’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “I think we’ve established that I’m very much gay.”

“Didn’t stop some people from trying,” Taichi mumbles, recalling the group of girls often crowding around Yamato, shoving their boobs at him and making Yamato look like he’s about to be ill.

“Don’t sulk, idiot,” Yamato counters, reaching forward to ruffle Taichi’s hair, “I was gonna ask you, anyway.”

Taichi’s face lights up so fast that he almost forgets the cramp in his stomach. Willing down a wince, he turns hopeful eyes at his best friend and says, “Really?”

“I don’t really go out with people other than you, anyway,” Yamato admits, cheeks slightly pink and Taichi wonders how he’s so fucking beautiful. The blond notices him staring and averts his eyes. “It’s for Sunday,” he quickly adds, “you free?”

Taichi sends his gratitude to whatever deity’s listening and smiles at his best friend. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

 

***

 

Mimi and Sora are sitting on their usual table at the cafe, Sora complementing Mimi’s hair color for the month and Mimi swooning at Sora’s healthy tan; a result of training for the upcoming tennis competition. They exchanges simple pleasantries for a few minutes until the topic comes forward.

“So you gave them to him?” Mimi ponders, twirling a lock of her hair around freshly manicured finger.

Sora nods, “I haven’t got anyone to ask out, anyway. Better give those tickets to Yamato ‘cause he wouldn’t shut up about how Taichi wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.”

Mimi lets out a tingling laugh, the expression on her face suggesting that she’s in no way surprised. Before long, Sora joins her and they’re outright guffawing. Some patrons look at them with disapproval and they try to tone it down, finally dissolving into little giggles.

Still composing herself, Mimi wipes tears of mirth from the corner of her eyes and asks the question that people all around Taichi and Yamato have been asking ever since forever:

“When are they going to admit they’re dating?”

Sora huffs and shakes her head, eyes reflecting her usual motherly warmth. “They’re too comfortable with staying together as _friends_ to give any label to their relationship. You should have come with me to visit their apartment last week,” she scrunches her face, “they’re so disgustingly domestic.”

 _Husbands in the making,_ Sora and Mimi affectionately call them, and it’s kind of ridiculous, how stupidly in love they are, yet how oblivious. Their closest friends – with Mimi and Sora at the vanguard – continue on their effort to knock some sense into Taichi and Yamato’s head. It’s never a simple endeavor because they’re both stubborn to a fault.

Mimi sighs, “Whatever, Sora-san. Just let them be, will you? They’re big boys – they should figure it out by themselves.”

“At this point, maybe it’s better to just wait,” Sora agrees, looking up at the sky and a smile lights up her face, “maybe one day I’ll wake up with their wedding invitation in my mailbox. Who knows?”

Mimi nods firmly, her earrings bobbing to follow the furious movement. She reaches for Sora’s wrist and traces the pretty lace bracelet that circles around it. “Now tell me about the guy who gave you this.”

Sora grins mischievously at her, and begins her story.


End file.
